The Gods of Tango: A Novel by Carolina de Robertis

Author:Carolina de Robertis [Robertis, Carolina de]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Coming of Age, Fiction, Retail, Romance
ISBN: 9781101874509
Google: dunIBAAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00OEXM6SS
Publisher: Knopf
Published: 2015-07-07T04:00:00+00:00

CINQUE

Ladies and Gentlemen!

She wanted it always, every bit of it, the blistered fingers and sore feet and arms aching from holding up that damn blessed violin, the long endless chain of nights performing until the sun came up as if only their music could make the light return. Her new orquesta’s sound tightened over the months, fusing into a shape that could curl and soar and sting. They played and played for arrogant and easy crowds alike. Then she’d walk home on streets dipped in the liquid gold of morning, looking around, dazed, amazed at the city that had taken her in and given her a way to survive. At least so far. Because no day was promised, nights even less so; it was not a soft city, it was full of edges on which you could cut yourself or trip and fall quick and lost right down to hell. Which made each breath of Buenos Aires air an act of grace. There were mornings when Dante came home to her matchbox of a room and lay her head down in wonder, one more night, one more stony dawn, a gift so large it almost seemed untenable. She earned her bread with her violin, a miracle that seemed as large as loaves and fishes. She was able to quit the factory, as Santiago had said, and live in a manner she hadn’t known was possible: from music. And for music. For what happened when bodies filled the dance halls and the tango gripped them like a beautiful curse, propelled them around the room in pairs, bodies caught in the fierce language of dance, the room disappears, the world disappears, all things give way to a single bright circuit of light between two dancers. She knew how it felt, she’d danced it too. She also knew that the feeling of the world reduced to two, and two alone, was an illusion. Because no couple generated the dance on its own. There was no tango without music, and the music came from her, from them, the music makers: she pressed her strings and fifty women’s shapely ankles moved in time, fifty lovely backs arched, fifty thighs lifted along trousered legs, oh, blessed kick, hook, sliding. Oh, bodies pressing as she pressed the sweet neck of her instrument and watched from the stage. Hold her close, compadre, Dante would think, flick your leg between hers, press her so gently to the left that she believes the turn is born from her own will, hold the small of her back like it’s the core of every pleasure on this earth, and I will give you my sound, over and over, night after night, my sound will move you, my sound will guide you, my sound, through you, makes love to her.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.